Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 51: Value (5)

“Of course, Miss Denise’s words may be useful. However, I can also give enough reasons why I don’t need to leave the Beltus family. After all, reasons are something you can make up when needed.”

The Beltus family, although its reputation rivals that of the Duplain family, which dominates the southwestern continent, cannot wield as much influence as Miss Aiselin and Miss Diella.

When it comes to producing heirs, it’s hard to find a place capable of raising successors as excellent as the Duplain family, even across the entire continent.

Nevertheless, Dereck continued as if none of that mattered.

“There are three reasons why I didn’t leave the Beltus family.”

“…What are they?”

“First, Miss Denise is a much more valuable person than she believes.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not saying this to flatter you.”

Denise, thinking it was just an empty compliment, thanked him without emotion, but Dereck denied it seriously.

She knew that white-haired mercenary didn’t say things he didn’t mean. Still, it wasn’t easy for Denise to accept Dereck’s words at face value.

“Miss Denise has produced results and maintained her position even in the cold environment of the Beltus family. That’s hard to compare with the warm family ties of the Duplain family.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Steel is forged in intense heat, but humans become truly strong in cold climates.”

Dereck was someone who had grown up from cold foundations.

His values differed from Aiselin and Diella, who had grown up embraced by the fullness of the Duplain family and had received much love.

“A flower that blooms in a greenhouse may look beautiful, but it has unavoidable limitations. I believe true value lies in the weeds that can survive in hostile environments.”

“…Are you saying I’m like a weed?”

“It’s a bit of an odd expression, but… yes, that’s right. Miss Denise has qualities like a weed.”

“…Wow. That’s too blunt to count as a compliment…”

“I don’t say empty words.”

“I know.”

Perhaps what this mercenary said was completely sincere. Denise felt an inexplicable sense of confidence growing inside her.

This mercenary highly valued Denise’s traits. No matter how much she pressed, he never stopped this training.

A famous teacher only teaches students they believe are worth it. Dereck seemed to have found value in Denise even she didn’t know she had.

“The second reason is that, no matter what happens, I need to maintain my relationship with the Beltus family a bit longer.”

“You’re already close enough to the Duplain and Belmierd families. There’s no reason to stay connected to the Beltus family too…”

Denise suddenly fell silent.

She stared into Dereck’s eyes, then swallowed hard.

“Are you trying to become a noble?”

“If necessary, it would be good to obtain a minor title through contributions, but I have no ambition for social advancement. My only goal is to maintain ties with many prestigious families so there are no major obstacles to my magical achievements.”

Ordinary people often dislike nobles obsessed with their privileges, but Dereck held no particular feelings—positive or negative—toward them.

He simply knew it was meaningless to oppose nobles when it came to learning magic.

If he wanted to become a high-level mage in the future, he would eventually need the support of as many prestigious families as possible. Given Drest’s life, that wasn’t something to take lightly.

“…That’s just like you. In the end, all you want is to learn advanced magic, right?”

“Yes. If I can maintain smooth relationships with the three great families, no one will be able to interfere with my magical progress. Though, this only applies to the southwestern part of the continent.”

“Do you really think you’ll reach 3-star mage level…?”

“I’m already at 3-star level.”

“What??”

Dereck made that shocking statement with complete indifference.

He didn’t show any emotional shift, but Denise couldn’t stop her pupils from trembling for a moment.

She had thought he was only skilled in 2-star magic. Even within the 2-star level, there was a big gap between someone who had just reached it and someone who had fully developed.

And the 3-star level was far beyond that gap.

Even among the nobility, only one or two per generation reach 3-star level by their coming-of-age ceremony. But this was the first time she had seen a commoner reach this level at such a young age.

She began to understand why Dereck was so intent on maintaining smooth ties with the three great noble families.

Denise swallowed again and recalled the magical abilities Dereck had demonstrated so far.

It wasn’t strange at all to consider him a 3-star mage.

“Dereck, you’re truly obsessed with magic.”

“I still have a long way to go.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. You definitely have reasons for staying with the Beltus family.”

Denise nodded as she sat on an old display cabinet. At some point, she even let out a hollow laugh. After all, this mercenary never strayed from the truth in his words.

No matter how much Denise tried to manipulate him, he always shattered her clever plans with his direct words.

He was with the Beltus family for his own safety and progress. And he said so with complete confidence.

There were no soft considerations in Dereck’s words.

They weren’t even meant to comfort Denise, whose wings had been clipped. They simply stated the facts.

‘….’

However, sometimes, after going in circles, that became a form of consideration and comfort. Dereck surely understood that well too.

Someone like Denise wouldn’t be moved by comforting words or flowery rhetoric.

You’re not worthless. You’re a beautiful and valuable being.

She wasn’t the type to be swayed by empty reassurances like that.

Instead, she found strange comfort in someone like Dereck, who would say with a blank expression: “Aren’t you?”

She felt a peculiar reassurance when Dereck affirmed Denise’s worth with solid reasoning—reasoning that was hard to refute.

‘I’ve really become a stingy woman, feeling relieved by words like that.’

Denise thought to herself as she smiled and scolded herself inwardly. This boy named Dereck judged people as individuals, beyond status or family.

To Denise, who had been oppressed all her life by the prestige of the Beltus family, he was a strange kind of person.

Come to think of it, during his lessons, not once had he imposed the typical noble mindset, like shining for the Beltus family or striving for greater honor and power.

He truly wanted to teach magic to Denise. There wasn’t even a hint of Beltus family glory mixed into that intent.

Thinking this far, Denise began to see this magic teacher Dereck in a different light.

A teacher teaches people. And a mentor guides people.

It made sense why Aiselin praised him as both a good teacher and a mentor.

‘What a strange person.’

In noble society, where everything revolved around authority and discipline, Dereck might have been the only one who taught people purely, unbound by that sense of status.

In terms of rarity, for Denise—who had lived her life oppressed by familial prestige—he was as valuable as gold.

Now, she was beginning to understand why so many noblewomen tried to bring this magic teacher into their families.

Dereck.

Looking calmly at him, Denise gently closed her eyes, then opened them and smiled as she spoke.

“So, what’s the third reason?”

Suddenly, she felt curious.

Dereck had said there were three reasons he stayed with the Beltus family instead of moving to the Duplain family. She had only heard two so far.

What importance could there be in receiving affirmation from this boy—who wasn’t the son of any famous noble, just a mercenary from the slums…? It was something she could easily brush aside as irrelevant.

Yet Denise suddenly found herself deeply curious about the final reason.

She more or less understood the first two reasons, but was embarrassed by how eagerly she sought the last one—like a little girl begging for praise. She laughed at herself inwardly, feeling like a puppy wagging its tail while pretending to act aloof.

“Oh, the third one?”

Dereck said it so casually, like it was nothing.

“I just want to know how the story ends.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

For a moment, she had to ask what he was talking about.

“If I go to another family, I won’t get to see the rest. It’s hard to bear being cut off at such an important point.”

“…You don’t mean…?”

“Yes. I’m talking about The Arrogant Lord Robain.”

“What nonsense is that!!!”

Denise sprang to her feet and nearly shouted.

Realizing she had just lost her composure, she blushed and quickly sat back down.

She looked like she was struggling to breathe.

“You’ve been waiting for the next part of the story?”

“Yes. Don’t you write it every night?”

“How could I possibly pick up a pen again after making such a scene?!”

“Embarrassment? I don’t think that’s necessary…”

This man was being sincere.

Denise stared at Dereck with a confused expression. He had no intention of mocking her past or causing trouble.

That made it even scarier. At times like this, purity was the deadliest poison.

“That—that was just something to throw away! I only wrote it as a temporary hobby… You don’t seriously think I was earnestly writing such a childish and silly story, do you?”

“…Really? I thought the detailed descriptions and character development were very impressive. A lot of effort clearly went into it…”

“Ugh…”

“Like I said, it’s too harsh to dismiss it entirely just because you’re embarrassed. Didn’t you stay up all night writing it, Miss Denise?”

Even as her face turned beet red, Denise managed to reply.

“You’re treating me like an idiot.”

“Me?”

“Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I’m really not.”

Dereck remained serious.

He brushed the dust from the hem of his pants and spoke in the same steady tone.

“Miss Denise, you said you were an empty shell, a pawn manipulated by the Beltus family, but looking at the facts, that’s not entirely true, is it?”

“What?”

“Even though no one asked you to, you wrote those stories, read and studied the works of other great authors. Why do you think the servants pretended not to see you working late into the night with your quill?”

Denise’s pupils widened slightly. She began to understand why Dereck had been so serious in teaching her.

Even in her nightly exhaustion, he remembered the image of a girl sitting at her desk by moonlight.

She lived pushed around by her family’s overwhelming pressure, like a giant wave. Yet at night, she sat near the window, gazing at the stars, imagining the love of fictional characters.

She wrote about people who retained their worth, even in the face of harsh reality.

The characters in her writing—who lived and breathed—never gave in to countless waves.

Even Lord Robain, caught in a family crisis, and Tracy, facing the limits of her status, fought their hardest to find happiness.

She depicted scenes where sunlight always broke through the clouds after the storm.

Foam crashing against half-collapsed piers.

At first glance, it might have seemed bleak, but the girl never failed to portray the hope that always lingered. Because that was what she truly wanted to express.

That’s why she wrote so late into the night with her quill.

That’s why an old mercenary, reading with his chin in his hand, couldn’t laugh at those lines—even if they were a little embarrassing or made his back feel warm.

“The lines you wrote after reflecting all night are proof that you’re not an empty person, Miss Denise. Do I seem like someone cold-hearted enough to dismiss those things as foolish?”

“…”

“I thought you might take it as an empty compliment, but I still wanted to say I enjoyed it.”

Dereck spoke with his usual steady demeanor. From the moment they met in Raspah Cave until now, he’d never changed.

She was starting to understand the value of his persistence. Denise looked at Dereck in silence, then laughed softly.

It was a laugh that bloomed like a flower bud.

“Dereck, you’re… very hard to figure out.”

In the dark basement, with no one around, Denise ran her hand through her hair for no particular reason.

Whether it was embarrassment, shyness, or something else—she didn’t know… but it was hard to hold eye contact with Dereck.

Even so, it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

*

“Miss Denise is in the pavilion.”

“Already? She arrived quickly.”

“Are you ready to go downstairs now?”

“No, make them wait a bit.”

Some servants were busy adjusting the neckline on Diella’s dress.

Diella, clad in a gorgeous frock festooned with ruffles in the dressing room, dawdled without emerging. Making the guests wait was a kind of power play.

Time had passed since the psychological warfare at that gathering. Now it was the day of the duel agreed upon between Diella and Denise.

The terms set by Diella were surprisingly generous, even from the Beltus family’s standpoint.

There was no reason to refuse: she offered to buy a non-existent painting at risk, even handing over cash.

The conditions were outrageously lavish for securing a plebeian mercenary—but the Duke of Beltus was willing to go this far to gain someone like Dereck.

“Miss Diella… I hesitate to say this, but…”

“I’m tired of hearing it. You want me to show some respect to Lady Denise, correct?”

“…”

When the butler Delron spoke firmly like that, even the cruel Diella could only respond with a long sigh.

No matter how much she might become the mistress of the Duplain family, she couldn’t harm the butler responsible for the whole household.

Still, whether or not she would listen remained another matter.

“I know. She may play the affectionate angel, but she’s the type to turn her hand on you anytime.”

“Lady Denise of the Beltus family is highly respected even in Salon Rose. If she really were as dangerous as she seems, wouldn’t she be a heavy burden on you, Miss Diella?”

Butler Delron offered his advice boldly. Of course, he had his own motives.

“As the mercenary said, if you become Lady Denise’s enemy, your ties with Salon Rose might not remain unstrained.”

“Ugh… the butler always brings up Dereck whenever things aren’t going your way…”

Diella groaned as she spoke.

Every time Dereck entered the equation, her resolve softened—and she couldn’t help thinking deeper.

What if, by chance, Denise harbored no hostility toward her? What if, by chance, the letters Denise had sent had been genuine? What if, by chance, Denise was simply a kind noblewoman who didn’t intend to deceive?

These possibilities tormented her mind even as she walked toward the pavilion, lost in thought.

But in the end, those were just thoughts. What mattered now was something else.

Today’s magical duel would take place in the private dueling arena located in Diella’s pavilion.

Since it was a newly built facility, she wanted to inspect it herself—and did not want to showcase her skills in a public place where others could watch. Denise had agreed readily and came to Diella’s house as an early guest.

It would have been natural for the hostess to personally greet such an honored visitor—but Diella left Denise waiting alone in the reception room for quite some time.

She intended to provoke a little mind game with that delay. After what felt like an eternity, Diella finally entered the reception room with a relaxed air; by then, Denise was already seated at the guest table.

Humming a tune while nonchalantly flipping through a book, she looked at ease as ever.

She even seemed more comfortable than she had at the Salon Rose meeting, as if she’d done some preparation.

Diella furrowed her brow deeply and sat down across the table. Denise closed her book, set it aside, and greeted her with an elegant bow, her smile radiating like the sun.

“Are you well, Miss Diella?”

“Yes. Perfectly fine.”

Diella answered curtly, but Denise didn’t seem to mind at all.

She simply picked up the teacup—which had already gone cold—sipped delicately, and smiled with her customary grace.

“This new house is truly beautiful. It suits the grandeur of the Duplain family.”

As Denise offered light, polite conversation with a sweet smile, Diella felt a strange pressure. No matter how harsh she could be, her opponent showed no sign of offense.

With silver‑gray hair, bright eyes, gracious manner, and limitless poise, she embodied the noble lady.

Though she didn’t raise her voice or show anger, she radiated an oddly oppressive aura.

While many high‑ranked noblewomen often felt intimidated in front of Diella, Denise appeared unmoved.

Yet there was no need for confrontation. Diella sighed and then laughed. A beautiful rose always has thorns.

And so do people.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet